


Two of us

by letitmclennon



Category: The Beatles
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fun, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McLennon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 15,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitmclennon/pseuds/letitmclennon
Summary: ...that is the 30 OTP challenge.A collection of flashfics about John and Paul.1. Holding Hands2. Cuddling somewhere3. Gaming/Watching a movie4. On a date5. Kissing6. Wearing each other's clothes7. Cosplaying8. Shopping9. Hanging out with friends10. With animal ears11. Wearing kigurumis12. Making out13. Eating ice-cream14. Gender swapped15. In a different clothing style16. Doing their morning rituals17. Spooning18. Doing something together19. In formal wear20. Dancing21. Cooking/baking22. In battle, side by side23. Arguing24. Making up afterwards25. Gazing into each other's eyes26. Getting married27. On one of their birthday28. Doing something ridiculous29. Doing something sweet30. Doing something hot





	1. Holding hands

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning.  
> I’m in the middle of translating my first long fic about the Beatles. It is settled in Paris. I’m half done now and I’d like to start posting in January, so until then I’ll try to finish translating it all.  
> But, in the meantime, I’d like to translate this 30 days OTP challenge. Technically it should be one chapter a day, but when I wrote it in 2014, I chose to change it a little bit in a 30 flashfics OTP challenge. The chapters will have around 500 words.  
> The title “Two of us” is just perfect for John and Paul, right? :3  
> Here we go with chapter 1. Hope you enjoy it.  
> Sorry for some mistakes. :(

It's like looking at yourself.  
John is just like him a few years ago. His bowed head, his rigid body still standing, in front of a gravestone that divides him from the one who has given him the most precious thing: his life.  
Paul knows, knows that now John wants to cry and scream for despair. And he knows that John’s actually doing it, silently, within himself.  
Paul knows that this has suddenly swept John off his feet and he is falling down. He just wants someone to grab him before he falls into a ravine he can’t and doesn’t want to get out of.  
Paul knows all this and knows much more about John, because even though it was different for him, he felt and continues to feel the same thing. Yes, he got gradually used to that moment, approached it day by day, step by step, while John has been thrown in suddenly, as he was sucked by a hurricane. But it’s the same after all. No matter how you lost her, this won’t change the fact that she is gone and won’t make the pain more bearable or even more suffocating.  
Because it’s a pain that will never go away, a pain that stamps you, it crushes your soul and weakens your body. A pain that bothers you when you least expect it, and you can do nothing but abandon yourself to it and cry, if you have the strength, because crying makes you feel less alone, makes you feel alive, in spite of everything.  
But John doesn’t have the strenght to cry. He doesn’t have it because he doesn’t want to feel alive, not now that life itself slapped him with hardness for the nth time and then turned its back to John, showing him only cold indifference.  
That is why Paul finds himself at his side, without even noticing it, to make him feel the warmth of his affection, to ease his suffering, to make him feel alive again.

That's why he slides his hand in John’s, with confidence, slowly.  
John clutches it immediately, as an instinct, with strength and a bit of surprise, as if he didn’t even know he wanted that contact, to feel alive, to feel Paul next him. And with that grip, he almost seems to want to say, "Please do not let me go."  
Paul knows he will never do that, because he will never leave John.  
At this moment, with his fingers intertwined with John's, with his hand that fitted with perfection with John's, with the mist of John's pain, which also clouds his soul, it is his only certainty.  
"Never let me go." John whispers, before crying, finally.  
"Never."  
And perhaps it’s the same for John.


	2. Cuddling somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul arrives to Kenwood in a very bad moment...

 Paul put a hand on his mouth not to laugh when John opens the door: his look is a real disaster, so disoriented, so worn out...  
"What happened?" Paul asks, under his mate’s glacial look.  
"A sticky combination of Julian, whims and candy floss."  
"I see."  
"Bringing him to the amusement park was traumatizing. I think I won’t regain myself. Would you ever have said that?"  
"Yeah, but apparently you wouldn’t."  
Paul laughs, removing a piece of candy floss tucked between John’s auburn hair.  
"You always know everything, huh? I thought you left some presumption in... where the fuck have you been?"  
"Durness."  
"Mm." John sighs, "Why?"  
Paul shrugs. "I wanted to see where little Johnny boy used to spend his holidays."  
"Didn’t you want to go on holiday in a place... how was it? 'To take a break from me'?"  
"I know." Paul murmurs, blushing, "But then I mis-"  
"John!" a voice from the top floor calls him, and Paul recognizes it belongs to Cynthia, "Prepare some milk for Jules!"  
John snorts and tells him to follow him in the kitchen.  
"Sorry, you've come during an excited moment. After washing away all the candy floss from the kid which was everywhere, apart from his mouth, Cynthia is trying to lull him sleep."  
"I understand perfectly."  
"Please, take a sit."  
John points to a chair and Paul obeys, observing how the guy moves in the kitchen. He’s still uncertain (he also pours some milk on the table), but he’s adorable and Paul feels really happy now. He had run away after the last fight with John, but he unconsciously went to a place that saw John growing in the summer holidays, which made Paul realize how important that man was to him, how unfair was every single time they spent apart.  
Paul looks around with circumspection, then gets up and closes the kitchen door. He leans his back against it while John prepares the baby bottle for Julian. His heart loses a beat. He had missed him, that's what he was about to tell him before, and now he just wants to touch him. He doesn’t care kissing him, loving him, he just wants to touch him, in any fucking way.  
He approaches his friend and slides his arms around his waist.  
"Hi, John." he whispers, leaning his chin on his shoulder.  
John chuckles, covering Paul's hands with his own.  
"Hey, princess."  
"I missed you." Paul sighs, closing his eyes.  
"Me too."  
Paul’s heart grows with joy. Those are just two simple words, but they have the power to instill in him the sweetest feeling one can feel. So Paul smiles, tightens his arms around John's waist and rubs his nose against his warm neck.  
"Mmm... John, you smell like candy floss." he murmurs, tasting his skin with little kisses on his neck, "I like it."  
John laughs because Paul’s delicate lips and breath are tickling him on his neck and ear.  
"Paul..." he whispers almost silently, "If Cynthia came in..."  
"Just another second, Johnny. I want to impress this scent deeply before I leave."  
John turns to look at him, smiling sympathetically. Then he wraps his neck with his arms.  
"Candy floss’ scent?"  
Paul shakes his head as a no.  
"John’s."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, here we are with chapter number 2... So, I didn't have any ideas about John and Paul "cuddling somewhere", but my Italian beta reader of that period gave me a prompt, which was... candy floss. And this was the result.  
> I have to thank my darling friend Waka because she did [this](http://whydontwedoitontheinternet.tumblr.com/post/167012710163/30-otp-challenge) great drawing about the first chapter and I am so happy.  
> Again, sorry for some mistakes, I haven't an English beta reader, so I'll do what I can. ç_ç  
> Next one will be... Gaming/watching a movie.  
> Have a good day. <3


	3. Gaming/Watching a movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wanted to go to the cinema, but he's interested in something else...

The movie really sucks. Who chose to go to the cinema to see right that one?  
Paul doesn’t remember, but he knows for sure it was John. He remembers several "Come on, Paul, let's go. I've heard it's the best movie of the year. You’ll see, we won’t regret it."  
So he agreed and spent that precious pound to watch a movie with a predictable plot and such a low level of acting.   
Moreover, who insisted about going to the cinema isn’t even paying attention to the movie. After a few minutes from the beginning, John turned to look at him. And he’s continuing to do that now. Which is quite annoying. At first, Paul tried to ignore him, trying desperately to concentrate on watching the movie, but damn it, if that was really the worst movie he'd ever seen in his life! And he also spent a fucking quid for the fucking ticket, just because John insisted until he gave in exasperated.  
And now John is there, eating popcorn and watching Paul. He should be angry, instead he’s barely able to hold a laugh. Yes, it’s true, his gaze makes him feel uneasy, but only because Paul wants John to never look away from him.  
"John?" Paul calls him in a whisper.  
"Mm?"  
"You should really watch the movie, since if we're here it's your bloody fault."  
John laughs and one of the spectators in front of them turns to shut him down. When he looks back at the screen, John sticks his tongue out. Then he turns to Paul, leaning his elbow on the seat and his head on his hand.  
"Actually, Paul, I prefer looking at you."  
Paul blushes violently and his heart loses a beat. He hopes that John doesn’t notice it, but from his smile, which Paul can glimpse with the corner of his eye, he finds that John has noticed it. He has fucking noticed it.  
In fact, he doesn’t hesitate when he put his hand on Paul's and intertwines their fingers.  
"What about if we go now?"  
"What? But the movie...?" Paul protests.  
"The movie sucks." John cuts short.  
"Yeah, but you wanted to watch it."  
"I wanted to be with you, no matter how."  
Paul blushes again, lowering his eyes, "So if we go away now, does that mean I can get my pound back?"  
John smiles mischievously.  
"All right." he exclaims, before standing up and dragging Paul with him.  
"Can I choose the movie next time?"  
"Whatever you want. Just let's get out of here." He moans, pushing him to the exit.  
"What about an horror?"  
"An horror?"  
"Yup, unless you are afraid..." Paul says, stopping.  
John turns to look at him, while a spectator murmurs an angry "Shh!".  
"What about you are the one to be afraid, huh?"  
"Well, that's why we'll go watching it together. So we'll give each other courage."  
Then he takes his hand, careless of all the people in the room.  
"And of course, you offer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so stupid, I couldn't think anything better. ç_ç  
> However thank you very much for all your kudos. <3  
> Next chapter will be "On a date".


	4. On a date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a date with Dot has a surprise for Paul...

"Good night, Paul."  
"Good night, Dot."  
"Sweet dreams, Dottie."  
Paul turns to John, beside him, to look at him with the most annoyed glance, while Dot enters her home.  
That evening the couple had come out for a walk and an ice cream, when John suddenly popped up, deciding to accompany them all night.  
"Nice evening, huh, Paul?"  
Paul mutters something exasperated, before turning and leaving. John chases him hurriedly.  
"Does this mean you didn’t have fun?" John asks innocently, without being able to hold a smile.  
"It means I don’t understand what was your fucking matter tonight."  
"I wanted to be with you." John says quietly.  
"Tonight?"   
"Yup."  
"But I had a date with Dot." Paul points to him, as if he’s talking to a capricious kid.  
"And I wanted a date with you."  
Paul stops walking to look at him puzzled but also amused: it’s not as if he’s talking to a capricious kid, John is actually a capricious kid tonight.   
"A date with me?" Paul asks him pleased.  
"Yup."  
Paul bit his lip thoughtfully, while staring at John uncertain about what to do: "Why?"  
"Is there necessarily a reason?"   
Paul nods: "There is."  
"Maybe I just wanted to be with me best mate." John answers, shrugging.  
"We're together even when we play at home."  
"It's not the same. I wanted a date, where you know you have to look at me and me alone, just stay with me, pay all your attention to me..."  
John blushes without even realizing it, when his words escape from his lips and Paul pauses for another moment before smiling shyly.  
"Alright then."  
"Alright?" John repeats unbelieving.  
"Yeah, let's have a date here." Paul says, pushing him until his back hits a lamppost.  
"Here?"  
"Right here."  
"When?"  
"Now."  
"But..."  
"But what, Johnny?" Paul whispers, putting his hand on the lamppost beside John's head, "Look, we have nothing else to do and we are both dressed up... Why waiting?"  
"I... I..."  
"So, John, where do you want to bring me on our date?" He asks curiously.  
"Well, right now, you took me by surprise." he murmurs with an intriguing smile.  
"Improvise then."  
"I’d like to bring you to Mendips."  
"It's not very appropriate for a first date."  
"Well, it is if you are John Lennon."  
"And what would I have to expect once in Mendips? Go in your room?"  
"Yeah and then, we can’t really know what’s coming next. We just go, then who knows what will happen tonight."  
Paul smiles, "Get to the point, huh, John?"  
"Get immediately to what’s important for me."  
"What about if I’m not interested in your plan?"  
John laughs, grabbing Paul for his shoulders and overturning the positions, so that Paul is now with his back against the lamppost and with John's body slightly pressed against his own.  
"Bullshit, you’re very interested in my plan, as you were interested yesterday, and the other day, and the day before and before..." he whispers in his ear with his warm and deep voice, causing him a shiver through all his body obviously.  
So much that Paul smiles, delighted, mischievous, and grabs his hand.  
"Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 4... which is based on the true fact about John showing up during one of the first dates between Paul and Dot , his girlfriend from the early days. She didn't have a good impression about John. xD  
> Thank you very much to all the reader for the kudos.  
> And thank you to my dear friend Waka-chan for her beautiful [drawing](http://whydontwedoitontheinternet.tumblr.com/post/167120541013/30-otp-challenge-part3) about chapter 3. <3   
> Next one is about... "Kissing". That's an interesting one. ;)


	5. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many kisses does John know?

"How many kisses do you know, John?" Paul asks.

He lies lazily on his back on his bed at Forthlin road, while John, over him, is trying to create the right atmosphere for more interesting things to do. The older lad sighs and stops all his actions, lifting up to look at him with a smile: Paul is only seventeen, of course he’s curious about certain things! 

"How many kisses do I know? Let me think... " John murmurs, wrinking his nose, "Well, surely there’s the kiss on the cheek."

Paul laughs as John shows him, "What the hell, John, even kids know that one! You can do better…"

"So, you mean something more for older people, don’t you?"

"Sure, you daft."

"Then it's different." he says, rubbing his chin, "Let's see, I know the Eskimo kiss."

"Eskimo?"

"When you kiss a person, rubbing the tip of your noses together, like this."

"Ah!" Paul gasps after being kissed, "Nose against nose."

"Exactly. Then there’s the kiss on the shoulder."

"On the shoulder? Why should it be nice?"

"Little, innocent kid, just trust your good old Johnny boy."

John bends down to lower Paul's shirt and uncover his shoulder; then he gently places his lips on the tip of it. A small kiss that is enough to give Paul gooseflesh and a little satisfied smile spreads on John's lips.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh!"

"And then?"

"Do you know the kiss on the neck?" John continues, “It’s quite interesting.”

And without waiting for a single word from Paul, he kisses the graceful crook of Paul’s neck. The sudden jerk of Paul's legs takes him by surprise and nearly drops John out of bed.

"God, John..."

_God, how funny_!

John giggles, bringing his lips closer to Paul’s.

"You’ll like the next one."

"Which one?" Paul sighs, his voice trembling, like his body, like he’s knocked out but just wants more of John’s kisses.

"This."

John’s mouth captures Paul's lower lip, biting it, licking it, and finally sucking it gently, while Paul's breathing becomes more ragged. His head tilts slightly backwards, as if he’s offering better access to John.

When John pulls away, he looks at him triumphantly: Paul is now a trembling, hot and inviting heap, ready for him, ready for anything.

"Finally..." he continues, moving his hands on Paul's sides, "There's the most famous one."

"That is?" Paul asks, biting his swollen lower lip gently tortured by John a moment before.

"French kiss."

Paul smiles as he wraps his arms around his neck, "I know that fucking well."

And then he’s the one who captures John's mouth, claiming his lips passionately, and his tongue afterwards, playing with it, trying to show John how fucking well he knows that kiss. John lets a groan to set free in Paul's mouth and he pulls away from him, falling on the pillow, flushed, thrilled, and satisfied.

"I’d say there’s no more ways of kissing, right?" Paul asks, but John shakes his head as if he was way wiser than Paul.

"Actually, Paul, I know another one. My favorite… Wanna know it?"

Paul lifts an eyebrow, perplexed and curious.

"Sure."

"Kissing you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. :3  
> This all kissing scene was inspired at the time by the kiss meme Fiona Fu drew with John and Paul. You can find it [here](http://fionafu0402.wixsite.com/gallery/meme). Obviously the meme is way better than this awkward chapter. ç_ç  
> Thank you very much for the kudos and a big thank you to waka-chan for [this](http://whydontwedoitontheinternet.tumblr.com/post/167226996878/30-otp-challenge-part4) about chapter 4. Isn't it cute? :3  
> Number 6 will be 'Wearing each others’ clothes'.  
> Bye :D


	6. Wearing each other's clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants Paul with him anywhere anytime...

Life is very difficult for John Lennon, difficult and cruel, but there are two things he was given, things that John loves deeply, things that he’s sure it’s worth living for.  
First is music.  
Second is Paul.  
Whenever John wants music, he just takes his guitar and plays. And if he doesn’t have this chance, if John is far from his guitar, he can always sing. Singing is even better. Singing is making music with his own body. Singing is magical.  
What about Paul?  
If John wants Paul... well, it's complicated. John can’t just go to his house three times a day, or in the middle of the fucking night.  
He just can’t.  
That's why that morning, when John woke up in Paul's bed, before sneaking away and leaving the boy still lost in his sweet rock 'n roll dreams, he took his shirt, which Paul had worn the day before. The one John took off of him impatiently.  
He took it and wore it all day long, just to carry Paul with him wherever he’d go. To have Paul with him every time John wanted to be close to him. To smell his scent when he began to miss Paul.  
That is why he finds his mate in the very evening, Paul on the doorstep, with his arms crossed and a very bothered expression on his face.  
"Give it back."  
"What?"  
"You know what."  
John laughs and leans back against the doorpost: "I'm sorry, Paul, I really don’t know what you're talking about."  
"I say you fucking do, since you're wearing it right now." Paul mutters, holding back a funny smile, and grabs the controversial shirt on John’s chest.  
"Ah, this one!"  
"Yeah, could you please give it back to me, please? It happens to be my favourite and I really need it."  
"Do you need it?" John repeats, "It's not that I stole it, you know, I left you mine. It seems a fair exchange."  
"Yours is fucking big, you daft. I mean, there could be two Pauls in here and there would be place for a third Paul, I tell you." Paul underlines his point by widening the shirt he’s wearing.  
"Are you suggesting that I'm fat?" John asks, frowning.  
"I'm suggesting you're bigger than me, in every way."  
John laughs for what can be a sexual innuendo in Paul's statement, but the latter doesn’t seem to be aware of it, or perhaps he's just pretending not to see how little innocent the answer was.  
"You said it!"  
"So, can you give it back?"  
"No."  
"Why?"  
"If you want it, you have to come and take it with your lovely hands." John says, backing into the corridor, and nods to Paul to follow him.  
Paul opens his eyes wide, very much upset.  
"John?!"  
"Go ahead, Paul, Mimi isn’t here. Is little Paulie afraid of something?"  
"I'm not."  
"Then, come on. If you want it, you have to do it by yourself, but just know, I’ll fight for it to death."  
Paul bites his lip, before smiling at the tempting idea, and advances in the house, closing the door behind him with a kick.  
"All right, John." He says, clenching his hand on his shirt, "Let's fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late with number 6, but here we are. Hope you like it, that's a little awkward, isn't it?  
> Next one is Cosplaying. A little bit of angst is on its way...  
> Thank you very much for all the kudos and thank you to Waka-chan for being so kind with me. :3


	7. Cosplaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afterwards the Magical Mystery Tour's Christmas party, 1967... with a very drunk John.

"What do you want?"  
"Let me in."  
John doesn’t know what time it is, he just knows that the hangover is fading away, he left the stupid Christmas party for the Magical Mystery Tour, and rushed to Paul's house.  
"No." Paul replies, looking harshly at John-Elvis in front of him.  
"Is Jane in?"  
"That’s none of your fucking business."  
"Perfect, she isn’t here. Let me in."  
"No, fuck you, Lennon!" Paul bursts out, trying to close the door.  
The gesture causes John's sudden anger, and he stops Paul before pushing him into the house overbearingly.  
"John, go away, please. You are bloody drunk and I have no desire nor time to go along with you this way." Paul begs him, his voice weak, his face tired, needing to sleep.  
"No!" John answers, trying to get closer to Paul, "I need to explain."  
"Explain what? Why did you act like a total asshole with Pattie?"   
Paul lets his anger take control on himself and looks at John with a deep frown, pushing him violently away before he can touch him.  
"I know, I was a dick. That’s why I'm here to apologize."  
"You’ve come to the wrong person, John. It's Cynthia you must apologize with. It's her who was embarrassed by your acting like a dick."  
"I’ve already made up with her."  
Paul doesn’t answer and continues to look at him, waiting for John to continue.  
"But I have to say sorry to you too. It wasn’t right towards you."  
John gives him a small smile that makes Paul's face waver.  
"And since you're still dressed as the most beautiful Pearly King I’ve ever seen, you should show all your compassion and listen to me."   
"Why should I? I already know what you're going to say, John." Paul sighs, resigned, "You were pissed because as usual we had a fight and as usual it was my fault; as usual you missed me and as usual you couldn’t bear it, so much to get so fucking drunk you could no longer understand anything and you act as an asshole with Pattie, thinking to draw my attention. Thinking _fairly_ to draw my attention."  
John blinks. He isn’t worried by Paul's words, because obviously they were exactly what he planned to say to Paul. He’s worried because his face blushes and tears appear in his eyes.  
"And you know what? I, like a jerk, would also listen to you, hating every word, hating you, how I hated you while flirting with those lascivious looks with Pattie. I hated you because you were making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. I fucking hated you and the more I hated you, the more I felt guilty, the more I wanted to hold you in my arms and... and the more I loved you."  
"Paul..."  
John tries to get closer again and this time, Paul, too upset by his outburst, doesn’t push him away.  
"Fuck, I hate you, John." he tells him, without screaming, just quietly, as tears glide over his cheeks.  
John bites his lip, before finally deleting the distance between them and embracing him.  
"I know." he whispers, holding him tightly.  
Paul grasps instinctively on to him, sobbing quietly in his neck: "And I love you."  
"I know that too. And you know what, Paul?"  
Paul shakes his head, without leaving his hiding place.  
"As usual, you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii. So good to post every two days... But I was forgetting it this time. ç_ç  
> However, cosplay, yay. Love cosplayers. :3 Here we have John as Elvis, and Paul as Pearly king, in the Magical mystery tour party. Do you know that party? With John who flirted shamelessly with poor Pattie. If you don't, you can find the embarassing report [here](http://www.neatorama.com/2012/08/23/The-Embarrassing-Magical-Mystery-Tour-Party/#!rSsTq).  
> Next one is Shopping. :D  
> Thank you for the kudos and thanks to waka for [this](http://whydontwedoitontheinternet.tumblr.com/post/167360772653/30-otp-challenge-part6). I have no words... That's too beautiful... I can't even... I... <3


	8. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking for Julian's present...

“What about this?"  
Paul and John went shopping and John dragged him in a toy store. Tomorrow is Julian's birthday and John has to buy some nice presents for him.  
However, as always, John took a carriage and filled it with any toy he saw. So Paul snorted and turned away, looking for a gift from himself, a more appropriate gift for a little boy.  
And right now he finds something pretty good for little Lennon.  
"A guitar?" John asks, puzzled.  
"Of course, so he can follow your footsteps."  
"He's two years old, he doesn’t even know what a guitar is."  
“Do you really think he can put together and play with that car track?" Paul points to the contents of John’s carriage.  
As he had expected, John filled it with any kind of toys: water guns, a push scooter, a whirligig, a yo-yo, even the latest product, the _Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots_. And as usual John doesn’t care if many of them are too complicated for such a little kid.  
When Paul points it out, John's face tenses in an offensive frown: "Hey, look, yesterday he managed to solve a very difficult puzzle for his age. He's a very smart kid."  
"I don’t doubt it, but I think he can get bored with those."  
"No, if he works hard, he won’t, you’ll just see it. He's a good kid, he’s going to study and do all he fucking wants to do because he... he’s not like..." John says, but his voice suddenly dies.  
"He’s not like who?" Paul urges him, staring worried at him.  
John bows his head, before shaking himself to throw away anything he's thinking.  
"Never mind."  
But Paul knows what John meant. Instinctively, he grabs his arm abruptly, drawing him behind a shelf.  
" _Like you_ , you were saying, weren’t you, John?" He asks, but even without waiting for John to speak, Paul sees the answer on all his face.  
"And so what? It's the truth, I'm nothing, I'm a stupid who can barely strum a guitar. I’m just someone who can make everyone believe he’s worth something just by stupid fucking tricks-"  
"Stop it!" Paul, very angry, pushes him against the wall, "Do you know when you're really stupid? When you talk like that."  
"You don’t understand."  
"I understand very well, instead. I understand you've led me here, I understand how easy you write your songs, I understand how I feel embarrassed when I see my name next to yours in those songs, knowing that I haven’t contributed to their beauty because you did all by yourself. And at the same time, I understand how you make me feel special, all the courage and confidence that you give me with the simplest of looks." Paul says, blushing and drawing him closer by the collar of his shirt, "Don’t ever say you’re nothing."  
John doesn’t really say anything, he just stares at him somewhat surprised, somewhat pleased, somewhat in love.  
"Because you're everything to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This flashfic was inspired by a story I read on Cynthia Lennon's book. When John went shopping in Weybridge with Paul, George and Ringo, he came back home with a lot of toys, some of them too difficult for a two years old kid. And once Julian solved a very difficult puzzle and John said "Well done, son! I'd never do that!"  
> I think that was so cute. :3  
> Anyway, thank you very much for all the kudos and thanks to waka because she's a dear friend. <3  
> Next one, Hanging out with friends...  
> ps: Is anybody willing to be my English betareader for a long fic I'm translating? Pleeease?


	9. Hanging out with friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break from filming sessions, in 1966...

"George, look what I’ve just found." Ringo says with a big smile.  
George approaches his friend, who seems to have found some particular floral species and feels the need to share it with him, since George has lately developed a great interest in gardening.  
That day, all four of them are filming their two new videos, _Rain_ and _Paperback Writer_ , at Chiswick House and they decided to take a break and stretch their legs.  
Paul brought his inseparable camera to capture some snapshot of the lovely views that one of London's finest gardens could offer: the Palladian villa or the hedges, flowerbeds and lily ponds.  
Sitting on the grass, basking in the warm sun, Paul looks with a smile his two friends who talk about botany... as long as they really understand something about it. He doesn’t resist the temptation and snaps a picture, immortalizing their focused expressions, so taken from the discussion.  
Those two together are a fun!  
Then he turns to John, sitting in front of him, and... God! His heart suddenly jumps.  
John has his elbow on his knee, his chin on the palm of his hand and he’s staring at an undefined point on the ground.  
John has _that_ look. Paul knows it because he has seen it several times.  
It’s the look that indicates that John is in his world, the world in which he hides, sometimes consciously, when things go wrong, sometimes without realizing it, dragged by his messy, damned unconscious. There, right in that world, John saw the eggmen and met Lucy in the sky with diamonds.  
It’s the world in which he also brings Paul some time, when he lifts his thick and hard armor, undressing himself so much that he lets Paul see and love the best part of him, the gentler, sweeter part of John than no other can see.  
The part that makes Paul fall in love every passing day, which makes John's presence indispensable next to Paul.  
It's all there, at his fingertips, in front of him. Paul has just to stretch out his hand and stroke the face he loves. But if he did, John would awaken, closing again and suddenly in himself.  
The camera in his hands seems to remind him of its presence. Of course, how didn’t he think about it?  
It’s the perfect tool to capture John in his world. The only way for Paul to look John’s expression whenever he wants to.  
So he raises the camera, frames John, focuses and... _Click!_  
John blinks, awakened by his thoughts, and turns to Paul. The magic is over, but Paul has succeeded in his intent.  
"What have you done?"  
"A photo, ok?" Paul replies, laughing and pointing at the camera.  
"Why?"  
Paul shrugs, "I liked your expression."  
"The big prick’s one?"  
Paul shakes his head, smiling gently to his partner.  
"The true John’s one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to post this yesterday, but I have some troubles these days.  
> However this is what I thought about Hanging out with friends. I took inpiration from this [photo](https://www.tracks.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/B24066-1.jpg). Isn't it lovely? :3  
> Next one will be very weird, With animal ears... ahhh.  
> Thank you very much to everybody for the kudos. Thanks also to waka for being a great support. :D


	10. With animal ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stupid bet about stupid bunny ears.

"Come on, John, luv, don’t worry." Paul says as they enter their little room behind the Bambi Kino.  
They’re coming back from their last performance, their last very special show. It was precisely that, in fact, the subject of their bet.  
_"I bet you don’t have the guts to go out on stage with those." Paul said._  
_And for "those" Paul intended a pair of bunny ears a stripper of their favorite nightclub used during her performances._  
_"What?"_  
_"Yeah, I bet two marks you don’t have the guts to wear them for a whole gig."_  
_"Paul, are you fucking crazy?" He snapped, totally incredulous and almost amused, "I don’t have to undress, you know?"_  
_"Ah-a, I knew you were scared." he teased him before laughing and chanting, "John Lennon is a sissy, John Lennon is a sissy."_  
_John frowned and then slammed his fist on his shoulder, just to stop him, "I'm not a sissy, you asshole."_  
_Paul's laugh collapsed and he looked at him satisfied, "Does that mean you’re in?"_  
_John gave him a last skeptical look, before nodding convinced, "I’m in, and if I do that, you have to pay me a fucking lot."_  
_"All right, we'll see." Paul said before shaking his hand._  
And John really did that, with much surprise from Paul and all the other members of the band: he resisted to the last note of the last song with those ridiculous ears on his head.  
The problem is that some drunken sailor has been heavily insulting towards the poor guitarist for that very reason. John has ignored him, but only in appearance and Paul understood it from the first moment.  
And now, in their room’s privacy, with Paul as only witness, John can finally let himself go, pouring out his frustration, addressing the most grievous epithets to that far away audience.  
Paul approaches John, who falls on the bed.  
"John, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I should never have started this bet."  
"What are you saying? They’re fucking cunts."  
"Yeah, but I..."  
"But nothing, Paul. Actually, you have only to think about paying me now, since I've won, right?" John asks, giggling, and Paul joins him, when John grabs him by the wrist, drawing him to himself.  
"Right." Paul answers, straddling him and grabbing on to his shoulders, "Next time they’ll pay us, you can keep two marks for yourself."  
"You know, I don’t think I want money." John murmurs, stretching his hands on Paul's back.  
Paul bites his lip, before moving closer to his face, admiring him adoring and grasping those stupid ears to throw them as far as possible, "And what do you want then?"  
John closes his hand on Paul's shirt and drops on his back, bringing the boy with him. "I bet you already know what I want."  
"How much do we bet?"  
"Whatever you want, luv."  
Paul laughs before leaning in and kissing John.  
"I’m in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Told you it was weird. :'(  
> I wasn't very sure about it, but it was the only thing I could think of. That was a very hard prompt. And the next one was even more difficult and weird.  
> Thanks as always to everyone and next one will be "Wearing kigurumis". I didn't even know what kigurumis were... XD


	11. Wearing kigurumis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul helps John with Julian's birthday party...

"Ta-dahh!"  
John looks at Paul with wide eyes. When he asked him for help for Julian's birthday party, that wasn’t exactly what he meant.  
That would be Paul standing in his living room, with balloons and colorful festoons, among a dozen children, dressed with... with... with a furry costume, complete with a hood, a collar and hanging ears.  
"Paul, what ...?"  
"You said you wanted help, and here I am." he explains, pointing to himself, while enchanted children continue to touch his costume, making him laugh because of the tickling sensation, "There’s no better entertainer than... uhm... Paulie, the bulldog!"  
"Bulldog? You don’t really have the bulldog attitude, Paul." John says, looking skeptical.  
Paul takes a hand to his ear, "What?"  
"You got it, puppy. You can be at least a tender little Yorkshire terrier."  
The children, especially Julian, laugh.  
"Oh yeah? I’ll show you.” he says threatening, before taking the most intimidating expression and emitting a powerful, _"Woof!"_  
Paul barks, he really barks, that idiot! John didn’t think he could get that much. But this is always Paul, the quicksilver, Paul the... Paul, the angry bulldog.  
Julian looks at John and his eyes shine with happiness for the improvised sketch, and John wants to be more and more part of that happiness.  
"That's a real bulldog!" he certifies, admiring, "Hey, bulldog, what’d you say?"  
"I said... _woof!"_ And Paul barks louder.  
"Oh, and tell me, bulldog, d’you know anymore?" John continues, encouraged by the children’s laughter.  
Paul, in response, begins to wail and the children shout for fun. Even Julian, first surprised, almost astonished, because his dad was part of the sketch, now screams with his acute voice and with other children, he manages to make Paul fall on the floor. Fortunately, his furry costume softens his fall.  
He continues wailing and barking regardless, as long as Julian, reckless, throws himself on him, catching his breath. Paul raises him with his arms, making him his most famous faces, the sweet and cheeky ones that make him so good with kids.  
John would like to have only a little of his ability to be so charismatic, enthusiastic and joyful, but for now it’s all right. He’s grateful to Paul for his help because his child is happy at his birthday party and because some of his fun, and the memory that will follow, belongs also to John.  
****  
"You know, Paul, you've been good today."  
A few hours later, in front of his house, John lowers Paul’s hood on his head just as an excuse to touch his hair, "The kids had a lot of fun."  
"Ta’, mate." Paul says, laughing delighted, before getting in his car while John leans on the door.  
"No, thank you. For all."  
Then he bends just to give him a sweet, too short kiss on his lips, which leaves Paul stunned and flushed.  
"And you know..." he says, pulling away a few inches from him, "I was wrong, you're a perfect bulldog."  
Paul wrinkles his nose, before gently biting his lower lip.  
 _"Woof!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, that was weird and not really difficult to write. Lol.   
> So, that was the only thing I could think about Wearing kigurumis.   
> Thank you very much, as always, and next one will be "Making out". ;)


	12. Making out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bored Paul during the Japanese stay.

The stay in Japan is terribly stressful, with the death threats, the massive security measures in the hotel to protect the fabulous Beatles, being forced to lock in their room...  
Paul feels tired in body and soul. Even the fag he’s smoking, sitting on the bed, with his back leaning against the wall, doesn’t manage to relax him. The muscles of his body are contracted, a single contracture that only increases fatigue and tension.  
He sighs heavily, exhaling the smoke trapped in his throat.  
"What is this sigh for?"  
The question comes from a very relaxed John beside him, all intent on watching, without understanding, the Japanese television.  
Since they had to stay in the room, they may as well spend those infinite moments together.  
"I'm tired."  
"Doing nothing?"  
"Mm..." he murmurs distractedly, lifting his torso and putting out his fag, "Plus my neck hurts."  
"Oh, Paul, luv, let me make you feel better." John says before approaching and settling behind his back.  
Paul laughs, mischievous, when John let his silk yukata slide down from his shoulders and then he brushes his lips against them. Paul tilts his head backwards, already foretasting how John is going to relax him.  
So his surprise is immense when John's lips pull away, replaced by his strong hands, beginning to give him a terrible massage.  
"Holy heavens, you’re tense like a violin string, dear."  
Paul lets a groan of pain escape.  
"Don’t you like it?" John asks.  
"If I have to be honest, no, it was better what you were doing before."  
John laughs, stopping and taking a hand over his mouth, "Watching television?"  
Paul turns and shakes his head, and before John can say anything else, he suddenly kisses his mouth, bending so much on him, that they end up lying on the mattress.  
John closes his eyes and lets Paul try to relax in the way he prefers. After all, he was still contributing more than actively.  
Paul's soft mouth rubs against John's, kissing it, teasing it, biting it gently, until John's lips part for Paul and he searches hungrily his tongue, as his hand clutches John's yukata.  
John lets go a groan and draws Paul closer, intertwining his fingers with his dark hair. It gives more enthusiasm, more passion, more love to Paul, who captures his tongue in a teasing dance, a game in which they run, find themselves, join and then part, just to start again from the beginning.  
"Oh!" John pants, interrupting the kiss, just to search for some air, "You're right, that's fucking better."  
Paul smiles before loosening John's yukata belt, discovering his warm body, ready for him.  
"You don’t think it's over here, do you?"  
"No?" John asks, interested, imitating Paul and stripping him of his robe.  
"Are you kidding? This is only the beginning!"  
Paul is sure: in John's arms, relax is guaranteed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff for John and Paul during the Japanese stay. :3  
> Next one is Eating icecream... :D


	13. Eating ice-cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a ball of strawberry ice-cream, and two competitors. Who will win?

Today is particularly sunny and hot.  
It’s true that it’s August 10, but… _holy shit!_ That sultriness is absurd. John hates this hot, damp heat that makes sweat, preventing his skin from breathing.  
Staying at home is worse, the sun hits and you can’t even open the window, because it would only get more heat.  
So that afternoon Paul and John decided to take a walk in Newsham park and look for natural freshness.   
Perhaps a "walk" is a big word. In fact, they arrived and fell under an impressive oak tree beside a small lake.  
Now John is basking in that shady cone offered by the lush fronds of the tree, throwing occasionally a glimpse towards the children playing sailing boats near the lake, or the couples in love who enjoy a romantic cross on rowing boats.  
He laughs slightly, thinking that if Paul acts like a good boy, later he can take him on one of those boats. Then they will naturally fight about who has to row, but John knows he will be the chosen one, because Paul is already making the huge effort to get two ice-cream cones from the ice-cream cart passing by.  
By the way, where the fuck is he now?   
John raises himself, leaning on his elbows and sees him calmly advancing with two cones in both his hands, slightly licking one of them. Next minute Paul is sitting on his knees in front of John, handing him one.  
"Here, vanilla and chocolate for our Johnny boy!"  
John looks at him with a frown, not taking the cone from his hand.  
"Actually, I asked vanilla and _strawberry_!" He points out offended, throwing an eloquent look at Paul's ice-cream cone, yes, just the one that seems to have the flavours he wants, the one Paul has already begun to lick.  
Paul's expression frowns and he instinctively brings his ice-cream cone closer to himself and farther from John, with a protective way that would make John laugh if he wasn’t so angry.  
"There wasn’t any more of strawberry and I also wanted it. So I had to choose if satisfying meself or you."  
"But I gave you the money for the fucking ice-creams, so strawberry should be mine."  
"Forget it, I took them, so it’s mine." Paul says whimpering, and to clarify the concept, takes a big bite of the strawberry ball of ice-cream.  
John laughs because Paul’s expression contracts in a grimace of sorrow for having eaten something so cold so fast.  
And while Paul tries to overcome the pain, John notices his wet lips with a pink shade of ice-cream, which makes that strawberry mouth even more inviting.  
What's better than strawberry ice-cream served directly on Paul's lips?  
Without thinking twice, John grabs him and kisses him, finally tasting the flavour he desired, while Paul gets stiff, before pulling away abruptly and looking around scared.  
"Are you fucking crazy, John?"  
"Why?" He asks, licking his lips with delight.  
"Anyone could see us..."  
"So what?" he shrugs, laughing, "I wanted my ice-cream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehehe, licking ice-cream from Paul's lips... such a naughty boy, our John!  
> Hope you like it.   
> Next one is funny, I mean, it was funny to write it, Gender swapped. Guest star, Pauline and Jane. Lol   
> Bye <3


	14. Gender swapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Pauline looking at her lovely Jane...

She looks at her from the next room, the door isn’t closed properly, and so, there’s a gap through which she can stare at Jane.  
Pauline hasn’t even noticed it at once. She was tuning her bass when suddenly she lifted her head, finding that wonderful sight in front of her eyes.  
Jane on a chair, her eyes lost somewhere only she knows, smoking a cigarette. Her slim legs, wrapped in skinny jeans, are elegantly crossed and her long, auburn hair falls softly on her thin shoulders.  
Jane is beautiful.  
Jane is perfect.  
Pauline can’t look away from the delicate features of her face, the aquiline nose, and the clear, small, almost almond-like eyes.  
Oh, Jane is a daydream, and Pauline loves dreaming, since she was a kid, when she’d shut herself in her room to listen to her favorite records, imagining how her future would be, who she would have by her side, who she would love...  
Jane isn’t exactly the person she would expect as a companion, but things went so, and she certainly wouldn’t even change a thing about her life.  
Sometimes Pauline is surprised to think that all this, the band, the success, Jane, are just part of a dream, that if she closes her eyes and then reopens them, she would awaken in her room, with Elvis's poster at her side and the latest Buddy Holly album in the background, as if none of those moments spent together had ever happened. No songs written looking in each other’s eyes, hands that had never touched the other’s when she taught Jane the correct chords, no stolen kisses, or daring caresses under the sheets when they slept together in each other’s bed.  
Thinking that those moments could be only ephemeral, unreal, cold dreams, which can give her only a too short hot thrill, well… this thought is terrible. Pauline would despair realizing that in fact she and Jane are just two simple friends, best mates, but nothing more.  
However...  
She knows that's not true, because just when she’s lost in these catastrophic reflections, Jane turns towards her now. A rapid movement of her head, her hair waves and her eyes intercepts Pauline's.  
Then a smile spreads over her lips and she gets up from her chair; Pauline's heart skips a beat. It’s that, more than anything, that reassures her, which makes her realize that it's all true, she isn’t dreaming.  
She knows it before Jane reaches her, and then smiles at her, and caresses a cheek with her thin fingers.  
"What are you doing, Pauline?" She asks, sitting next to her, "Daydreaming?"  
"Not at all."  
Then she smiles as Jane's scent teases her nostrils, inebriating her senses and pushing her to lean over Jane to steal a kiss, just a touch of lips.  
"I'm not dreaming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was so difficult. I'm not sure it's good enough. Anyway, this is what I could think about.  
> Next one is "In a different clothing style".  
> And thank you very much to Waka for [this](http://whydontwedoitontheinternet.tumblr.com/post/167835100238/30-otp-challenge-part12).  
> 


	15. In a different clothing style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dressing like Pyramus and Thisbe.

"Please, John."  
"No."  
"Please, I beg you."  
"I said no."  
"Come on, when will we ever play Shakespeare again? Shakespeare, John! You know him? The Bard?"  
John, exasperated, looks up to heaven. When Paul makes an effort, he can be a little beggar.  
 _Admit it, the most adorable little beggar you've ever seen,_ whispers his subconscious.  
Yes, of course... what does his subconscious know about being a little beggar? Oh yeah, it’s John’s first, fucking annoying little beggar, the one who keeps him awake at night, making him think and think and think about-  
John shakes his head to awaken himself while Paul looks at him, waiting for an answer.  
"But why do I have to play the bird?" He answered, pointing to the dress he was wearing.  
Yes, a dress, a fucking dress like a fucking bird, a white dress covered with a lightweight tulle. Not to mention the wig... blond, with two very disturbing braids... no, really, better not to talk about it.  
"Because it’s going to be fun." Paul explains, laughing.  
"Not how much it would be if you did it. You are more suitable to play a female character. With those eyebrows of yours... "  
Paul snorts, so snobby, "It would be bloody ordinary. Instead, our John/Thisbe would leave everyone agape."  
"No, it would only ruin my virility."  
"Then, I think you would never be brave enough to wear this tights." Paul says, smiling mischievously and turning on himself to show the garment in question.  
The usual exhibitor.  
However, without even noticing it, John finds himself staring at his long, long legs with that tight, tight, black and gray striped britches, which emphasizes the perfect line of his calves, the curve of the knee and up, his strong thighs and-  
John bites his lip, before letting some inappropriate moans escape, some groans more suitable to be heard by the walls of a bedroom, rather than those of a dressing room where anyone can enter, at any time, in any way...  
"Come on, John. I said please." Paul reiterates, staring at him now with his pleading eyes.  
Oh, dear Lord. Here he does it again, he begs him, with those eyes, fucking bedroom eyes, eyes of an abandoned puppy and together, of sinful promises.  
Big and dark eyes, sweet and lascivious, eyes which John can’t resist to.  
Eyes that bring him with the impetus of a hurricane and the heat of a fire somewhere where John is free to rid Paul and himself of those horrible clothes from XIV century and recover his reputation, of a male, to whom nobody can resist, nor any girls nor, best of all, _Paul_.  
John clears his voice, recovering a bit of attitude; after all, they’ll do that later, that same evening, when they can get rid of anything and anyone and be alone.  
First he has to deal with that stupid sketch.  
"So then?" Paul insists, supplicating, blinking, pleading with his eyes again.  
Damned Paul.  
"All right then." John sighs.  
And damned his eyes too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, here we are with chapter 15. We're at half of the story. ;)  
> Hope you like it.  
> Next one is "During their morning ritual(s)”.


	16. Doing their morning ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's early-morning art attack!

John didn’t resisted when he woke up early that morning, finding himself under a light cotton sheet next to Paul.  
Paul who was blissfully lost in his dreams.  
Paul who was lying down on his belly, his arms under the soft pillow.  
Paul who was totally naked, the sheet just over his bottom.  
Paul with white skin, caressed by the sun that had just arisen, and kissed by its shy rays.  
A perfect vision.  
Though it was still dawn and John felt still sleepy, he had to report that view on something concrete.  
It would have been a pity, not to make it true.  
His sketch album offered him its help and now John’s there, in a chair beside the bed, where Paul is still sleeping, unaware of everything.  
The charcoal moves sure on the paper, emitting a scratching sound. John portrays his face, semi-concealed by his arm, his soft closed eyelids, his thin eyebrows. Then his dark hair, dishevelled on the pillow and the strong shoulders, the spine, of which he draws every slightest detail, starting from the sinuous curve that goes down, always further down to disappear under the sheet and-   
A light noise attracts his attention and John looks at Paul's face. He isn’t ready to receive his most powerful look, eyes not yet fully open, but surely awake and aware of what John’s doing.  
"An early-morning art attack?" he asks, his voice drowsy, hoarse, sensual, it vibrates so much that it’s enough to wake them just a little, and leave both still pleasantly numb.  
John smiles, arranging the final corrections, "Something like that."  
Paul arches his back to stretch out with a feline movement, and he just lifts his head, crossing his arms over the pillow and leaning his chin on them. All that, without looking away from John for a moment.  
"What are you drawing?"  
"Nothing special."  
"Oh, would I be _nothing special_?"  
John laughs, putting aside the portrait, "If you knew, why did you ask?"  
"I wanted to hear it from you, but after what you said, I'm very offended, you know, Johnny?" he points out, pouting, "Besides, you didn’t even give me an appropriate good morning."  
John shakes his head, resigned, before climbing on the bed.  
"You’re right, darling." He says, caressing his hair and delighting at the little groan that escapes Paul's lips, "Good morning, Paul."  
He snorts, very disappointed, "Is that all? I want a fucking _real_ good morning."  
Then he laughs gently, when John surprises him with a kiss on his neck, tickling him, but the movement is enough to slip the sheet out of his body, discovering his bottom.  
John notices it with pleasure, and immediately a flush of heat passes through him violently. Without thinking twice, he moves over Paul, who sighing, smiling, spreads his legs, and abandons his head on the pillow, satisfied with the attention he’s receiving.  
This is much better than a portrait.  
Hotter.  
Truer.  
"Good morning, Paul."  
And surely a more interesting way to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the idea of John doing a portrait about sleeping Paul. For that reason, this chapter, unlike the others, will be linked to another one.  
> Hope you enjoy it. :3  
> Next one is Spooning.


	17. Spooning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two different cold nights, in two different times.

Paul can’t sleep tonight.

_It's so cold in this tiny little room in Hamburg. He's freezing._

Not even the warm duvet, nor Linda's body can infuse him warmth.

_He’d like an extra blanket, just one, he thinks as he keeps rolling in bed, otherwise he’ll freeze from head to toe and he won’t be able to play tomorrow._

Paul goes downstairs to the living room, doesn’t want to disturb his wife's sleep. He sits on the sofa and curls up so as not to disperse heat.

_It's the first time at the Top Ten. He has to make a good impression. How will he play well with icicles instead of fingers?_

Paul takes a pillow, hugs it rightly, while a few words, those he has heard for days, still echo in his head: "John is dead."

_"Oh, all right then, Paul." a voice in the dark sighs._

John is dead, he's gone. If Paul left now, for New York maybe, for any other part of the world, he wouldn’t find him.

_Paul blinks, and as he realizes that the voice belongs to John, he hears footsteps, a movement of the mattress and a bit of warmth wrapping him_.

And the world is so cold without John, Paul always feels cold without John.

_"What are you doing?" Paul asks, while John hugs him from behind._

There’s no way to change things, there’s no way to find heat in this sad world, or maybe yes, but it’s no longer possible.

_John laughs, hiding his nose in Paul’s neck, "Excuse me, sir, weren’t you who kept repeating: 'Oh, John, please, I’m cold, come here, oh, John'..."_

John can’t help him this time, he can’t sneak up next to him and hug him, comfort him, warm him up, or just because that's what Paul wants.

_"No, I’m pretty sure you're wrong." Paul says, smiling and feeling the warmth of John's body caressing and bringing relief to his._

A violent storm rages outside and a shiver runs through Paul's body.

_"Then it must have been George-" John begins to say, but Paul stops him immediately, holding him there, with one hand on his arm._

Maybe it's John, that storm, John who is desperate because he couldn’t say goodbye to Paul, John who can’t be there with him now, to push the cold away with the warmth of his embrace.

_"No, please, stay. Maybe I didn’t say it out loud, but I was thinking it actually."_

The cold comes in as draughts from the window, Paul gets up and closes it well.

_"Ah, is it so? You really are a little prick, aren’t you?" He says._

So Paul hears it, the wind that howls, John and his pain, the same as Paul's. And he just wants to tell him not to worry, to stay calm, because he'll be fine.

_Paul laughs and John covers his mouth with his hand, "Now fucking sleep, before you make the others wake up."_

But Paul knows that it isn’t the truth, and that he will never be fine, that he will always be alone now, that he will always be cold without John. So he can only tell him...

_"Goodnight, John."_

"Goodbye, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a challenge. Writing two different scenes, intertwine them in at most 500 words.  
> I'm sorry if it's a bit angst, I could just think of this. :(  
> Hope you enjoy it and the next one will be Doing something together.


	18. Doing something together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How far is Paul willing to get for John?

How far is he willing to get for John?  
Would he do anything for him, would he really do it, would he be willing to do anything?  
For John?  
John leans heavily on him, while Paul opens the door: he can’t leave him alone, not in those state. He just took an acid and is now having a bad trip. One decidedly distressing, from the way he squeezes Paul.  
"Where am I, Paul?"  
The voice trembles uncontrollably and the same happens to his body, when Paul turns on the light of the entrance, without ever letting him go. He knows that if he lets him go, it's the end, for John and for himself.  
"At my place."  
"NO! It's not true... where did you bring me? There’s too much light here. I see nothing. Where are you?"  
Paul tries to support him with his hands, but John looks scared and escapes from his arms. He wobbles in the entrance and brings his hands over his eyes, bumping into the wall.  
"John!"  
John screams of pain, now the terror is more than visible on his face, the terror of who doesn’t know what he’s doing, who has lost his way home. Paul tries to approach him, but John takes refuge in the living room.  
"Paul, where are you?"  
"I'm here." He answers, following him immediately, but he doesn’t have time to reach him, so John, with his hands still on his face, stumbles into the carpet and ends up on the ground, next to the fireplace.  
It’s now that John bursts into tears, as if the Apocalypse had arrived and he still had too many things to do. He cries hopeless, the sobs violently shake his body and he crouches on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest.  
"Paul... Why did you leave me?"  
John so fragile, so frightened and trembling, is a vision that Paul can’t resist to. Yet now he feels so powerless, how can he help him?  
He approaches with an uncertain step, kneels next to him, gently stroking his shoulder so as not to disturb him anymore, as if he’s afraid of breaking him definitively.  
"I'm here, John, see?"  
"No, it's not true." he screams, pushing away that hand, his eyes, full of tears, move frantically, but it's as if they can’t see Paul, "You're not here. You're not here and I'm alone and cold... so cold..."  
Paul just wants to cry, along with John, he would like to do anything with John, he would like to be wherever John is. Even if it’s a desolate, sad, frightful land.  
"Paul, please... help me... I'm afraid."  
A slight movement of John's body, and here comes a colored container from his jacket pocket: his pills.  
They slip right in front of him and Paul looks at them, hesitant. If it's the only way to be with John...  
 _How far is he willing to get for John?_  
Up to this point, it seems.  
He extracts a small red tablet and melts it in his mouth, trying to breathe quietly.  
Then he lies down next to John, hugs him, holding him tenderly on his chest.  
 _Oh, look, there he is!_  
"I'm coming, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You already know this story, about Paul taking lsd for the first time with John. It's so sad, but I wanted to write something on it. Don't know if it came out something good. :/  
> Next one will be In a formal wear.


	19. In formal wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can John tie a tie? Paul will teach him...

"How the fuck do I tie this thing?" John asks and then impatiently throws that bloody tie on the floor.  
Paul sighs, raising his eyes to heaven. In the last ten minutes he saw John fight with that new suit. Black trousers perfectly stretched, white and starched shirt, brand new jacket and then... yes, there’s also a tie.  
Paul hasn’t worn it often in his life, outside of school, but he fucking knows how to tie a tie. John, however, apparently doesn’t know where to start.  
So Paul approaches, bends to pick up his tie and puts it around his neck.  
"Never lose hope, John."  
"It’s too complicated."  
"No, look." Paul says, then starts to handle that thin strip of black silk, "First wrap this around the other, then lift it up, let it go underneath that and finally tighten."  
When the knot is nice and ready, Paul looks up at John, smiling as if it was the easiest thing in the world, a real child's play.  
"Clear?"  
"No."  
"Come on, your turn now." Paul encourages him, untying his tie and wrapping it around John's neck.  
"It’s too complicated."  
"That’s not true."  
"Show me one more time." he says, smiling, with his smile that’s sweet and mischievous at the same time.  
His hands, John’s beautiful hands reach Paul’s, caress their back with his thumbs and then take them gently, leading them up and leaning them right there, at the two ends of the tie.  
"Come on, Paul, last time."  
Paul, who, as always, can hardly resist to _John Lennon_ , looking at him, touching him in that way, sighs and repeats the action he did a little while ago.  
"First wrap this around the other, then lift it up, let it go underneath that and finally tighten."  
John pulls a face, suddenly feeling a noose around his neck.  
"Got it now?" Paul asks, but his hand finds it hard to get away from John's tie.  
"I got it, I got it, but I think I'm suffocating." he comments with a grimace.  
"Theatrical as always, John."  
"No, really, I can’t breathe." John gasps, struggling for air and Paul snorts.  
"Stop that."  
"I'm suffocating, Paul, I need to breathe. Don’t I have a purple colour on my face?"  
"Actually, it seems to me you're fine."  
"You suck as a Red Cross nurse, one could die before your eyes and you wouldn’t raise a single finger." John snaps, loosening the tie and the first button of his shirt.  
He doesn’t understand if it's the words or the gesture that makes Paul nervous, but now he hurries to re-tie his shirt and tighten the knot, before grabbing him by the tie and pulling him to himself. John smiles satisfied when Paul kisses him passionately.  
"Better now, my poor dying lad?"  
"Much better." John replies, laughing, "And you know, I think I understood how to tie a tie."  
"About fucking time."  
"I had a teacher who was able to get my attention."  
"Yeah, I guess how." Paul says with a laugh.  
"Besides, if you allow me, I would like to return the favor by teaching you something later, after the show."  
"That is?"  
"How to untie your tie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Here we are with flash number 19. There are only 11 left. :D  
> I wrote this thinking about John loosing his tie to have Paul tighten it again. That was so cute. :3  
> Hope you like it. And thank you very much for all the kudos and comments. :3  
> Next one is Dancing. :3


	20. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want to dance with me, Paul?"

"What are you doing out here, all alone, John?"  
John turns around: Paul is in front of him, with his beautiful suit, his well-tied bow tie, his combed hair. His cheeks are red, but maybe it's because of one or two extra glasses that he drank during the party.  
"Nothing, just getting some fresh air." John sighs, looking back out of the terrace.  
They’re at this stupid party, in this stupid, big house and John isn’t even having fun. He spent the last few minutes grumbling about foolish things, making Cynthia lose her patience. So he decided to go out, looking for a bit of coolness and tranquility.  
Too bad it didn’t last long.  
"Too hot inside?"  
"Too much confusion."  
Paul laughs, coming closer to John, "It's a party, John, if there's no confusion, there's no fun."  
"I disagree."  
"Oh come on, you're the first to throw yourself into the fray during a party. What's the real problem?"  
John, surprised, blinks, but his upset lasts a little, just enough time to remember that Paul never fails to notice when something is wrong with him.  
And something isn’t good tonight. As well as many other nights before. Only that...  
"Nothing, Paul, there's no problem."  
Paul raises an eyebrow, before smiling and approaching John even more.  
"No problem, John?" he asks, taking him by the hand, "Then I must have imagined the furious glances you threw me while I was dancing with Jane."  
Paul's hand intertwines with John’s, before drawing him to himself with a quick gesture.  
"What-?"  
"I must have imagined your eyes full of jealousy as I twirled my girlfriend on the dance floor." Paul continues, and with a decisive movement wraps his other hand around John's waist, "Is it so, John? Did I imagine everything? Your jealousy and your anger because you couldn’t get up, move forward proudly, sure, towards me, steal me from Jane's arms, ask me, ‘Shall we dance, Paul?' and then hold me and finally, dance with me?"  
John closes his eyes, clinging to Paul and sighing, as he starts swinging both of them on the notes of a silent melody, guided only by the beats of their hearts, always in perfect harmony.  
"Is that so, John?" he asks, brushing his lips against John’s ear.   
A shiver runs through John's body, and he’s grateful to be in Paul’s arms, which support and guide him with confidence, as they always did, with John, for John, only for John.  
"Yup."  
Paul laughs, then stops all the movements, pulling away from John, "Then ask me properly."  
John rolls his eyes, smiling, "Do you want to dance with me, Paul?"  
Suddenly, when John reaches out to Paul and he puts his hand on it, saying, ‘Yes, John.’ suddenly, the party isn’t so bad for John.  
This isn’t bad at all, when he returns in Paul’s arms and clings to him, while they gently rock, without really understanding who he’s leading and who he’s following.  
"But don’t step on my feet, okay, John?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't sure to post today, in this sad anniversary, but I think it was the right thing. :3  
> That was difficult to write, I was scared to make it ridiculous.   
> Anyway hope you like it and next one will be Cooking/baking.


	21. Cooking/baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Searching the wooden heart to get a kiss from Paul.

Paul McCartney knows he can expect anything from John Lennon. Anything!  
Except for this: John who joins him while he’s babysitting.  
Of course, finding John in front of the door can be understandable, but the really weird thing is the box of cookies that he’s offering to Paul: they are nice to see, they seem chocolate flavoured cookies and are shaped like... _heart_.  
"What does that mean?" Paul asks, puzzled.  
"I found the heart." he explains with a big smile.  
His eyes shine, seem absurdly happy, almost in seventh heaven.  
"I still don’t get it, John."  
"Well, you know, remember the Valentine's Day gig? Who would find the wooden heart, would win a kiss from Paul McCartney. And here I am." John says, looking back at the cookies, "I know they’re not wooden, but I made them with my own hands."  
Paul doesn’t know if he's more upset about the idea of John struggling with flour, eggs, sugar and so on, or because he made those little hearts just for a kiss.  
The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s blushing violently. There's a fire on his face, Paul knows, as well John does. However, he doesn’t want to face all these thoughts now, so he tries to lighten the atmosphere.   
"Are you sure you didn’t buy them?"  
John frowns.  
"You can bet your ass, I did them with Mimi." he replies, blushing slightly, with a strangely frightened manner, "I didn’t know where to start and I asked her for help, saying I wanted to do them for Cynthia... But actually, I only needed one, for you."  
Ok, Paul doesn’t really want to think about it, but damn it, if John isn’t doing anything to bring his mind there, caught up in those thoughts of cookies, kisses, love... _John!_  
"So why did you bring me so many, if just one was enough?"  
John lets out a chuckle and Paul suddenly finds that the redness on his cheeks is nice.  
"Just to be sure. So if I had lost someone, I’d still have had a good reserve."  
John runs his hand through his hair, more and more uncomfortable, and this way Paul can see a smear of flour still on his cheek.  
He really did them, _god!_ The image of John with his hands in dough, and maybe even in an apron, is definitely no rock 'n’ roll. Yet Paul can’t help but find it incredibly adorable.  
"Why, John?"  
"You know why."  
Yes, Paul knows, he has known it forever. And now John’s there, he made all those heart-shaped cookies just to get kissed by him.  
"And maybe you would also like a kiss for each cookie."  
"That would be nice."  
"But this is against the rule." Paul says, approaching.  
"Of babysitting?"  
A laugh, then Paul caresses John's cheek, "No, of the game. You haven’t found the heart, you just did it."  
"Yeah, and can’t you grant a little exception? For me?"  
Paul smiles, before bending over and kissing him.  
 _Granted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, -9 at the end of the challenge. :D  
> So this flash was inspired by the story of the Valentine's day's concert. You can read it [here](https://www.beatlesbible.com/1961/02/14/live-litherland-town-hall-liverpool-5/).  
> Hope you like it.   
> Next one will be weird, In battle, side by side.


	22. In battle, side by side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Composing together, even when they're apart.

Why is he doing it?  
Why is he writing this song for... no, _against_ Paul?  
Everyone will understand that it’s addressed to him. Not to mention that Paul will hate him.  
However, now everything is ready, the text is perfect, witty, sincere... sincere? No, John doesn’t even believe to half of those things, but he has to do it anyway, Yoko says he must, so as not to be defeated by Paul. And Yoko is always right after all, isn’t she?  
"I don’t think we need an A minor here." Yoko tells him, blowing out the smoke from her mouth and pointing to the verses of the refrain.  
They are both sitting lazily on the bed, bringing the final correction to the chords of the song.  
 _Bullshit!_  
John blinks, surprised. He heard a voice, full of warmth, a very familiar one which makes his heart jumps gently. He looks around, but there's no one, it's just him and Yoko. As always, after all.  
"Why?"  
"It's too predictable." she replies, unable to hold back a yawn.  
 _Come on, John, you know it's not true._  
It's true, and John also knows who’s talking, he recognized it, he could recognize him anywhere.  
Paul.  
By now he has understood where he’s right now: Paul is speaking directly from his own head.  
"I don’t think it's predictable. It fits for me."  
"Oh, all right, if you want it to be dull and boring, play A minor." Yoko replies with a vague gesture of the hand.  
John frowns, clutching his fingers on the guitar’s handle.  
 _Let's hear her idea, then._  
"What should I play instead?"  
"A major."  
 _What?! Are we joking? Come on, John, tell her it's not possible. It's bullshit._  
"No, Yoko, it can’t be done. It’s a completely different key. It would be out of tune."  
"It would surprise."  
John bites his lip. He knows he's right, he and Paul are right. He doesn’t want to lose this battle. They can’t lose it.  
They have already lost too many in the past, all those battles they faced together against the world. And then the most important one, the one they fought for themselves, the battle that never started, lost before it began, the battle they didn’t even try to fight.  
 _Come on, Johnny, you can do it._  
Of course he can. So he clears his voice.  
"Yoko, until proven otherwise the one that composes for the longest time is me. So, believe me when I say it takes A minor here and nothing else."  
His voice is strong and determined, nothing can knock him down. Yoko also seems rather surprised by so much self-confidence.  
So, taken aback, the woman just shrugs nonchalantly, "Do as you please."  
Then she leaves, leaving him alone, to his song, to his guitar, to Paul who congratulates him.  
 _Well done, Johnny._  
Yeah, well done. John smiles sadly to himself.  
A victory, after many defeats. Their victory. Right now, just now that it isn’t useful anymore. Now that there is no more time for them.  
There is only time for one last thought.  
'We won, Paul.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This was very weird to write. I thought about something that said Paul in an interview, that he can hear John in his mind while composing. Maybe John did the same. The song he's composing in the flash is How do you sleep, of course.   
> Next one will be Arguing, the first of two flash linked.


	23. Arguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Paris, again, after several years and with too much people around.

He waited for them all evening, keeping an eye out of his bedroom door, in that marvelous hotel in Paris.

A few minutes before, John left Paul and Maggie at the bar of the elegant hotel, while Brian was somewhere with friends.

So now, John hears them giggling and approaching their luxurious suite, and he jumps on his feet and opens the door, surprising the couple holding hands. Both turn to John, without concealing the surprise that takes possession of their expressions.

"John!"

"Paul, may I talk to you for a moment?" he asks, crossing his arms on the chest.

Paul hesitates a little, "Can’t you wait until tomorrow? We were going to sleep."

"No, it's quite urgent." It's John's dry answer.

Paul sighs, raising his eyes to heaven, before telling Maggie to go and wait for him in their bedroom.

She nods, annoyed, and when Paul turns his back to her to enter John’s room, she looks at the older man with a rather annoyed face.

John smiles at her slyly.

_Bitch!_

When he closes the door behind him, Paul lets himself  falling on John’s bed and looks at him bored, "So what's so urgent that makes me delay my hot night with Maggie?"

John frowns, "It seems that the problem is that fucking bitch."

"Oh yeah? And for what reason?" Paul asks, laughing, aware that his being cheeky and impudent will make John more nervous.

"You know why." He bursts, angry, "It was supposed to be our holiday, _ours_ , Paul, like..."

"Like what?" Paul replies, jumping up, "Like '61’s, John?"

John sees him approaching, without taking his eyes off his.

"Like when it was just the two of us, John? In Paris, in a small hotel, hidden from the eyes of the world, just you and me?"

John nods, frenetic, while his breath becomes more erratic by Paul’s closeness and his perfume that gently wraps John, as the most wonderful and hot invite.

"So, if it has to be like '61, why the fuck did you take Brian along with us?" He asks, suddenly raising his voice.

John blinks, caught off guard, "What?"

" _Brian_ , you know him?"

"Brian has to cover us, you fucking jerk." John answers, pushing him, “That’s why you took that cunt with us, isn’t it? An act of spite?"

"And so what?"

"I don’t want her to ruin our journey."

"It's no longer our journey, John, it's too crowded." He retorts, sadly.

"No, it isn’t true." John says, his voice is sweet as his hands grab Paul’s, "It can still be our fucking journey."

Paul shakes his head, "I wanted it to be as the last time, but then I heard about Brian and... I saw red! Why didn’t you say it right away, John?"

Paul looks at him intensely, and suddenly John feels himself blushing.

"I..."

"Why, John?" He insists.

But John doesn’t know, he knows he's afraid, but he doesn’t know of what. There’s a lot of confusion in his head and in his heart, his life becomes a fucking mess when it comes to Paul.

Paul nods disappointed, then starts to leave.

"Wait."

John stops him, grabbing his arm as he passes him by.

"Don’t go."

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was inspired by the journey John and Paul did in 1966, I think, with Brian and Maggie.  
> I found it interesting.  
> Next one will be, of course, Making up afterwards...


	24. Making up afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just few words are enough to make up.

"Don’t go." John whispers, "Stay."

Paul shrugs, nonchalantly, "Why? After all you have nothing to tell me, John. "

"Yes, I have. I told you, 'Stay'." he repeats, showing a little smile.

"John..."

"Stay with me." John continues, stroking his cheek, "Stay for me tonight."

"I have to go back to Maggie." Paul protests.

However, his is just an uncertain whisper, while John draws him to himself, letting their foreheads touch.

"No, you don’t have to go to her. You must stay with me."

His grip on Paul's hands becomes more intense.

"Why?" Paul sighs painfully.

"Because we don’t have to end a day with a fight."

"Don’t we?"

John shakes his head, with a little smile on his lips, "No, never. I couldn’t bear it."

"So? Any idea to make up?" He asks, chuckling softly.

John runs his hand through his hair, looking at it carefully in its delicate and attentive movement, "Yes."

Yes, he thought of a way to make up, because after all, even if Paul drives him crazy, if John thinks about it, that intricate tangle of feelings, which makes him feel the most disparate emotions only with a look of Paul, with his sweetest smile, with his lighter touch, _that_ can only be...

"I thought about telling you... _I love you_."

Paul's eyes can’t hide his surprise, and John notices it with great pleasure.

"Is it the truth, John?" That’s Paul’s question, said with an incredulous and trembling voice.

"Why should I lie to you?" John asks.

"Just to make me stay."

"You know it's not like that." he says, leading him meanwhile to the bed, without Paul resisting, "You know I love you, always did, and you also know that tonight you'll stay here."

Paul just has time to cling to him, before falling on the mattress, with John on top of him.

"And who decided it?"

John looks at him seriously, before answering decidedly, "Me."

"Does that mean we've made up?" He asks as John rubs his nose on his neck.

"Only if you stay." John mutters, his voice is muffled by Paul's warm skin against his mouth.

"But I need you to offer me something more interesting, to convince me to leave Maggie alone in our bed, with silk sheets and-" Paul starts to say, but he’s interrupted by John's mouth that violently clashes with his.

It was John who kissed him, but Paul doesn’t take long to take advantage of the situation: he gains the upper hand, surprising both of them, and claims John's lips passionately, as if there’s no tomorrow for them or the world.

"I offer you myself." John sighs, between kisses, "Can she offer you more than me?"

Paul holds his gaze full of desire and expectation, "No, John, she can’t."

Then, with a quick movement, he switches their positions, nailing John to the mattress, blocking his hands on the pillow, with all the intention of resuming the activities of a few moments before.

 "Nobody can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for posting late. I've been busy these days. ç_ç  
> Anyway, hope you like the make up chapter. :3  
> Next one is Gazing into each other’s eyes.


	25. Gazing into each other's eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Paul locks eyes with John, the world just stops for a moment.

Ten minutes left and Paul can’t find a single mirror to tie his tie and check the final touches.

He looks around the dressing room: Ringo is ready, he’s nervously tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair where he’s sitting; George, in front of the mirror, is carefully buttoning his jacket, muttering nonsensical words, certainly due to a little anxiety for the upcoming concert; and John...

John is in front of the only other mirror available in the dressing room. He’s combing his hair and still has to tie his tie, but the real weird thing is that he seems particularly lost in his thoughts.

Actually, it's not so weird. After all, it is a  _truth universally_  acknowledged that John Lennon often falls into these absent states, especially before a concert.

Paul knows why this happens. Sometimes their life is so full of tasks, so lively, without being able to take a breath, that the need to leave all of this behind for a few moments doesn’t only become understandable, but necessary if they don’t want to lose their mind.

So now John’s combing his hair for five minutes, without realizing that he’s perfect now.

Paul smiles and approaches the lad, settling behind him. He follows his features with his eyes, from his strong hands to his beautiful face, with his lips parted, his elegant nose, his thin eyes, lost who knows where.

Paul searches for them in the mirror and when he finds them, he doesn’t let them go. John doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, but Paul is sure it won’t take long for him to notice, because looking him in his eyes, for Paul, for John, is like hugging; when his gaze locks with John's, it’s like a warm and real contact, a light touch that only wants to bring him back to reality.

Paul’s never wrong. He knows that he’s the only one able to bring John back to the present; he knows that John needs him to do it, because otherwise he runs the risk of getting lost in that strange world that completely sucks him in sometimes; and Paul knows he must do it because he too needs John, to have him by his side, in the real world, the frantic one they built together, because if John leaves him alone, Paul doesn’t think he can go on. No, he needs him, only this, to look for him with his eyes and find his sweet eyes that whisper, "You can do it, Paul."

Then, finally, John notices him and the most beautiful smile born on his lips, a smile that Paul doesn’t hesitate to reflect immediately.

"Hi, baby." Paul whispers.

John giggles, "Hi, Paul."

"Are you ready to go?"

John stops their eyes contact for a moment, before turning to Paul and giving him his most powerful look. Paul's heart trembles: looking directly into John's eyes, and not through a stupid mirror, is a great, mystical experience, like looking into his soul.

Paul knows his answer, even before John speaks.

" Yes now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the delay. Here we are, just -5 till the end.  
> I found inspiration for this flash thanks to that wonderful photo of John and Paul looking at each other's through the mirror.  
> Besides I put that "Hi, baby" said by Paul after watching a video about the reharsal of The night that changed America, in which Paul says it to Ringo. Maybe he told that to John too sometimes. ;)  
> Next one will be very very difficult, but also pleasant. "Getting married"


	26. Getting married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if John wants to marry Paul?

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night"_

Paul sings the last song on the bed, his voice is warm, sweet, soothing and hopeful.

_"Take these broken wings and learn to fly"_

John likes it. He thinks Paul is singing for him.

_"All your life"_

He thinks that the little blackbird can be himself, a young helpless John found by Paul with broken wings, healed thanks to him, until together they managed to take flight.

_"You were only waiting for this moment to arise"_

John, lying next to Paul, stares at him and meanwhile absently, turns a small piece of used guitar string between his fingers. It was a day of laziness, one of those spent naked under the covers. Then Paul got up to take his guitar and let him listen to his latest work. And now here he is, in front of John's adoring eyes, covered by a simple sheet, all focused as he plays and sings for John.

John thinks it would be great to listen to him and watch him forever.

"It’s beatiful!" he says, when the song ends and Paul looks at him anxiously.

"Is it?"

"Of course."

Paul smiles, blushing slightly, "I'm happy, you know, it's a gift for you."

"You don’t need to give me presents." John murmurs as he sits up.

"No?"

John shakes his head slightly, before resting a hand on his cheek, "Your love is the most beautiful gift you could make me."

"John..."

"In fact, your love is a gift for anyone you meet." John sighs, before draw him to himself and kiss him, taking him by surprise.

And while Paul decides to let himself go on his mouth, John thinks he could and would like to surprise him even more, with that crazy idea that has been teasing him for a while, so unrealistic that John wants to try to make it real anyway.

So when he pulls away from Paul, he just says...

"Paul, let’s marry."

Paul has never shown so much amazement in his life, "What?"

"You heard."

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe, but I want to marry you anyway."

"But, John, we can’t." Paul replies, smiling, "I mean, can you imagine the two of us going to church and asking the reverend to be married?"

"Does that mean you want to marry me as well?"

John's question takes him off guard and all Paul can say is, "Eh?"

"Come on. You just made it clear that if it was possible, you would do it."

Paul bites his lip, but something on his face shows a sort of joy mixed with excitement. After all, with their personal matters and those relating to the Beatles, isn’t it already considered a wedding?

"I guess so."

"Then let's get married!"

"How?"

John looks around thoughtfully, then, smiling, grabs the piece of guitar string. He approaches Paul, removes the guitar from his arms, takes his hand and wraps the string around his ring finger a couple of times, before making a knot.

"Here, with this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Paul looks at him, puzzled, raising an eyebrow, "John, it really sucks as a ring."

"Paul, look, I'm serious, I... I really want it." replies, immediately kissing the ring that he improvised on his finger, "What about you? Do you want me?"

Paul jumps imperceptibly and hurries back, "Sure, of course I want you."

He bends over to kiss him, but John covers his mouth with his hand.

"Wait, we're not married yet."

"Oh." he says disappointed, "Okay."

"Then, by the powers vested in me by the Apple corporation, I declare the two of us husband and husband."

Paul laughs softly, "Now, can I kiss the groom?"

"I would say yes."

Paul bends over him again, kissing his lips tenderly and wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Where are we going on our honeymoon, John, my dear?"

"Honeymoon, Paul?" he repeats, letting Paul lie down on the bed, "Let's think first about the wedding night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm very sorry for the delay. But with these holidays it was all messy.  
> I hope you had a merry Christmas and I wish you a Happy New Year.  
> Next one will be On one of their birthday.


	27. On one of their birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul's special birthday present.

It was a hellish day for Paul.

From eight o'clock in the morning he had been stuck in Abbey Road's studios, rehearsing with George and Ringo, and not even the shadow of John. Definitely a wonderful way to spend his fucking birthday.

That idiot could at least warn him about his absence.

But no, he didn’t tell him anything at all, for some reason, and Paul remained in the studios all day, sweating in the heat and continuing to curse John.

He snorts, as he opens the door of his house, murmuring a last, exasperated, _'You're a jerk, John'_ , because after all, he just wanted to spend his birthday with him.

When he comes in, he’s too distracted by his troubles, but despite this, he can see that there’s something different in the doorway of his house. Anyone who would notice, it’s something so important that it’s hard to miss.

In fact, all the walls are covered with... _sheets_?

Paul, perplexed, approaches and notices that they’re not ordinary sheets: they are portraits. And the man who sleeps in that portrait, in the next one and still in the one after it, that is him, Paul.

Paul knows the hand that drew those portraits, a hand that has many times intertwined with his own and now his fingers gently scroll on the portraits hanging on the wall, all along the staircase.

There’s Paul sleeping naked in bed, Paul asleep on the chair during a break from recording, Paul lying down with his eyes closed, on a lawn, Paul sleeping in the bedroom at Forthlin road, in John's at Mendips, in the big bed of some luxurious hotel, Paul hugged to Martha, Paul, Paul, Paul, only Paul.

When he arrives at the top of the stairs, the series of portraits continues, guiding him like special tiles of an equally special path.

It leads him to the bedroom.

Paul hesitates for a moment, before opening the door.

The moment he enters, John, right John Lennon, sitting on the bed, jumps on his feet. It's the first thing that Paul notices, John in the middle of his bedroom. He looks as always, but something in his eyes betrays a slight anxiety.

Only after staring at John for who knows how long, Paul looks around in the room. Even there, the walls are covered with portraits of Paul, cleverly drawn by John.

The young man steps forward uncertainly towards John. At every step, the smile on his lips widens more and more, and when he arrives in front of John, he lets out a sigh.

"So?" He asks.

"What?" Paul answers.

"Well, say something."

Paul nods sympathetically, then bows his head, biting his lip, "I didn’t think I slept so much."

John laughs, before slipping his hands on Paul's waist and drawing him closer to himself.

"Is that the reason you didn’t come to the studios today?"

"Yes, I had to organize your birthday card."

Paul tilts his head, confused, "Card? And the gift would be?"

John smiles mischievously.

"Stupid." He whispers, touching his lips in a tender kiss, "It's me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I anticipated in chapter 16, this is the sequel of the flashfic in which John draws a portrait of sleeping Paul.   
> Anyway, we are at -3 flashfics to the end.   
> Next one will be Doing something ridiculous.


	28. Doing something ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is bored and Paul is asleep...

The credits begin to scroll on the black screen of the TV and John sighs relieved. Luckily, this terrible film is over. Who had been so crazy to spend some money to film such a junk?

A movie should have the purpose to entertain, to make people think, to excite. Instead John's mood is bad, ruined by an hour and a half of foolish scenes, ordinary characters, terrible jokes, which on other occasions would have made him laugh, but no, in that case there was too misery even for him.

There is only one way to feel better: and this is why John turns on the couch where he’s sitting, and he stares at Paul. Paul who is sleeping deeply, his breathing is calm and regular and the serene expression shows that his dream is one of the sweetest.

However, John doesn’t want to sleep because it was Paul's idea to stay home to see a movie, and he also had the courage to fall asleep and leave him alone in front of the television. What a jerk.

John must absolutely take revenge, but how?

Waking him up would be too sweet as a revenge. So John jumps up and looks around, curling his lips thoughtfully.

He finds the perfect idea when he sees, abandoned on the table, pens and markers. He takes a big black marker and goes back to sit on the sofa next to Paul. He bends over him with a malicious smile on his face and begins his attack on the young lad’s face. First he takes care of the eyelids and gently, in order not to wake him up, he draws two open eyes. When he pulls away a little to see his work with the right perspective, he hardly holds back a laugh: the effect is particularly disturbing.

He returns immediately closer to Paul and paints the tip of his nose black, just like a puppy, but when he’s about to draw a nice beard on the fine line of his jaw, Paul quickly opens his eyes and with a snap grabs John's wrist, before the tip of the marker touches him again.

"Are you enjoying yourself??" Paul asks, totally apathetic.

"Yes, a lot, certainly more than watching the stupid movie you chose, which I had to stand alone."

"I was tired and your couch induces sleep." Paul replies with a snobby grimace.

"Poor baby." John says, running a hand through his hair, "What have you done so tiring to be so tired?"

"How about _putting up with you twenty-four hours a day_?" He asks, a sardonic smile spreads across his face.

“That must be hard work.” John laughs amused and totally agrees with Paul, "If you put it that way, then you could be justified."

"Good. This gives me a little revenge."

"Like?" John asks, worried.

Paul takes the marker from John’s hands and then, catching him by surprise, flips the positions on the couch, settling on top of him.

"What about a mustache?"

"I look very bad with a mustache."

Paul smiles at him.

"Let's see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I know, this is very ridiculous to read. I mean, I didn't know what to write. And then I saw a drawing by Fiona, in which John was painting Paul's face. So I just tried to put in words her beautiful idea. :D  
> Next one will be Doing something sweet.


	29. Doing something sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul has fever and John takes care of him.

John sighs exhausted as he waits for the milk to heat up.

He should have understood it right away when they were about to play at the Cavern: Paul wasn’t feeling well, he was pale and tired, so the concert was also very dull.

For this reason, John took him to his house, fearing that Paul, left alone, could feel worse.

After a few hours, in the middle of the night John was awakened by Paul, who was stirring in his bed. He was feverish and had violent cold shivers.

The first thing he did was touching his forehead with his hand: he was very hot. So John quickly took some cold water and wet his forehead with a handkerchief, trying to lower the fever.

He didn’t know for sure how much time he stayed beside him, wetting his handkerchief every time it got too hot; he didn’t know how much time passed before the fever subsided. However he succeeded, and Paul calmed down.

After that, John went to the kitchen and started to prepare for Paul something that Mimi always did for him, when as a baby he was ill (and even now, actually).

Right now, in fact, John pours hot milk into his cup and melts a teaspoon of honey to sweeten it. When it’s ready, he comes back to his room, sitting next to Paul and shaking him lightly to make him open his eyes.

"Look what I brought you..."

"Beer?" Paul asks, his voice still faint and his lips curled in a smile.

John snorts, "Hot milk."

"With whiskey, I hope?"

"You're really an asshole." John sighs, "The high fever must have blown out that little brain of yours."

Paul laughs weakly and rises to sit with his back against the wall. John helps him and then hands him the cup.

"Drink, it will make you feel better."

"Who says that?" Paul asks, sniffing the sweet smell of milk and looking at John, skeptical.

"Me."

"And when exactly would you get the Medical degree?"

"Can you please just be quiet and drink that bloody milk?" John replies, exasperated, "Thank God I took care of you while you were raving about the fever."

Paul blinks, perplexed, "Raving?"

"Sure. Not that it’s the first time, of course, but this time it was due to the fever."

"And what did I say?"

" _Oh, John, help me, I need you, please, I love you, please..."_

"I was really delirious." Paul whispers, with a slight laugh, making John angry.

Then he begins to drink his milk, but John notices that he’s blushing and is almost certain that it’s not due to the fever.

"It's good." the young man says, enthusiastic, licking his lips.

"Of course. I made it."

"Thanks, John."

Then Paul signs for him to approach and John obeys, sitting next to him.

"However, you weren’t delirious."

"I know."

"But that doesn’t mean those things aren’t true."

"No, indeed." Paul replies, "They are much more than true."

Then he smiles to himself as John watches him rest his head on his shoulder.

"They’re everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I think of something sweet, I think of milk and honey. My mum always made it for me when I was ill. That's a very important memory.  
> Next one will be the last one, Doing something hot. ;)


	30. Doing something hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!

His hand spreads on his belly.

His legs wrap his waist.

His mouth opens behind his ear.

John takes the hot body writhing beneath him, thinking how cold it was until a few minutes ago, and how good they’re now, in his bed, hugging each other, clinging to each other.

_Paul had come to his house as cold as an icicle, yet he was dressed heavily from feet to the tip of his hair: the snow had covered him, as if he was one of the monuments of London’s city._

Paul's hands caress John’s shoulders and when John starts to move inside him, they squeeze him, moving then on his back, wrapping him completely.

_When John had opened the door, the young man, all shaking, his face red, had said only, "What a fucking cold."_

Paul moan loudly and throws his hands in John's hair, searching hungrily his sweet mouth.

_Then John, without saying anything, had drawn him into the house, starting to kiss him and then undress him, to warm him in the way he knew, because at that moment Paul needed him and John would do anything for Paul._

John's movements become more urgent, more intense, they perfectly express his need of Paul, and in a few minutes love and passion shake both bodies, making them tremble with pleasure, in each other’s arms.

Time for John to catch his breath, losing himself in the vision of the blissful and satisfied expression of Paul, and John rolls at his side, with a great sigh, and stretches, while Paul approaches him and covers both with a sheet, pulling it up over their heads. Then, while John smiles for the new arrangement, the young man buries his nose in his hair and inhales his scent. His hand touches John's chest, slowly, and he covers it with his own, making their fingers intertwine immediately. He turns to him, looking at him for a while, before bringing a hand to his face and stroking him tenderly.

"Paul, are you happy?" Is the question that comes out of his mouth, even before he can notice.

Paul blinks, caught unaware, "Why are you asking?"

"Please, answer."

Giggling softly, Paul lets his forehead rest against John's, "Of course I'm happy, why shouldn’t I be?"

"Well, you know, because we’re not free to do whatever we want, because we have to see each other in secret and never in the sunlight. Because-"

"John." Paul stops him, with a finger on his lips, "Don’t say that. I'm happy whenever I'm with you, no matter how."

"But I-"

"But nothing, John. I don’t need anything else to be happy, just you." he goes on, and with a sigh he slides over John, his nose just a inch from the other guy's, "Besides, do you know what they say?"

"What?" John sighs, stroking his back.

Paul smiles for a moment, before touching his cheek with his fingers, "Happiness isn’t doing anything you want, but wanting everything you do."

"And who said that?"

"I don’t know, some crazy drunk, I suppose." Paul replies, laughing, "But it's true, it's how I feel whenever we’re together. I want every moment that I spend with you and I'm happy, really happy if it's just us, just the two of us."

Paul bends over to kiss him tenderly and then he just lifts up a little, to look at him, and when John doesn’t seem to want to say anything, anything at all, then he says with a big resigned sigh, "Come on, say it."

"What?" John asks, perplexed.

"That I'm the usual fucking sentimentalist."

John lets out a laugh and shakes his head, before switch over their positions.

"Actually, I was thinking we're _two_ fucking sentimentalists."

"It's because we're getting old." says Paul, letting his gaze get lost in John's hair that now intertwines with his hand.

"Maybe, but what you said before is true. I'm happy too if we're two."

Paul curls his nose, with the sudden need to correct John, wrapping his arms around his neck.

_"Two of us."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So, the challenge is finished now. This was the last chapter. I thought about something hot but also sweet and with a sense of closure, like Paul's last bit which recalls the title.  
> I really want to thank the beautiful fandom, whoever left a comment, whoever read it and specially @whydontwedoitontheinternet for her lovely drawings. Speaking of it, she will be also the main guest for my next work. It's a long fic of 16 chapters about the Paris honeymoon. I've been translating the chapters since last february and now I think I'm ready! I'll post it in a few days. I'm so excited. :3  
> Anyway, I really hope you like this challenge.  
> Thank you very much and see you soon! :D


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